


Caesura

by emungere



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Loss of Virginity, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-15
Updated: 2003-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:07:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2777654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/pseuds/emungere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yohji's world was lights, video screens full of twisting bodies, glitter that might be real or might be the effect of the strobe lights on his dazzled eyes, and music so loud it was no longer audible. He felt the drilling beat of the bass in his stomach, but everything else was white noise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Caesura

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Cab for doing an overnight beta and to Chrissy for her usual patience and handholding.

Yohji's world was lights, video screens full of twisting bodies, glitter that might be real or might be the effect of the strobe lights on his dazzled eyes, and music so loud it was no longer audible. He felt the drilling beat of the bass in his stomach, but everything else was white noise. 

He slid a hand up her arm, this girl he was dancing with, this girl who didn't know him and never would. He slid a hand up her arm and felt the music throb in her skin.

"Do you want to get out of here?" he said, even though she couldn't hear the words. His thumb jerked back toward where he thought he remembered the door being.

She'd been waiting for that, of course. That was how the game was played, and Yohji was a master player. Everyone who thought they knew him knew that.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her outside. The air was cool, and the sky was brown with cloud cover that reflected the streetlights.

She shivered, and he draped his coat around her bare shoulders. Spaghetti straps, red, catching strands of her straight black hair and slipping down only to be pulled back up. He got her settled in the Seven, leaned over to adjust her seatbelt, hooked a finger under one strap and pulled her close for a kiss. Her lips tasted like clove cigarettes. He hated clove cigarettes.

He smiled, licked his lips and then hers.

"I like the way you taste."

He understood how the game was played.

She smiled at anything but him and told him her name. He should have cared, usually cared what their names were, but not tonight. Tonight he couldn't be bothered. She didn't ask his name in return, and he didn't offer it.

There was a stop at a convenience store, the car idling while he ran in for booze. They drank Wild Turkey in the parking lot of the park where Ken coached soccer. His hand moved steadily up her thigh.

"We should go somewhere," she murmured.

"Do you want me to stop?" Hand cupping her breast, under her shirt, over her bra.

"No." Gasped. Her breath washed across his face, a miasma of cloves and scotch and lust.

He would have done more, but she passed out. She must have been drinking earlier. Yohji wasn't surprised. He picked them for that, more often than not, and when he wasn't looking for the drinkers, sometimes they found him.

It was just as well. He could avoid the uncomfortable part of the evening this way. He loved these nights of near-hallucinatory indulgence, but he didn't like the questions.

Why won't you come up? Why can't I touch you? Or, worse, from the bolder girls, Don't you want to fuck me?

He did. He would. Someday. Not tonight. It was always not tonight, no matter how many nights slipped away in a stream of alcohol and nicotine and hammering music. He didn't wonder why. He knew why. Most nights, he tried not to think about it.

He drove around until tonight's girl woke up. He pulled over so she could vomit up a night's worth of liquor and held her hair back for her. No one could say Yohji Kudo wasn't the perfect gentleman. She wanted to go home, so he took her home. Even walked her up and tucked her in.

Then it was back to the Seven, driving through windy, wasted, late-night streets, and home.

Home. The florist shop, with their bare apartments over it, and floors of empty rooms because Kritiker didn't want innocents in their building. In theory, he agreed. In practice, it felt like living in quarantine. Four Typhoid Marys, living in guarded seclusion lest anyone catch their disease. Yohji didn't think their particular disease was communicable, but one never knew. Better to be safe than sorry.

Kritiker had, unsurprisingly, thrown a fit when Aya insisted on moving Aya-chan in with them after that mess with Schwarz and the aborted demon summoning, or whatever the fuck was going on there. But then Aya-chan wasn't exactly an innocent. Kritiker could hardly treat her as one after pumping her for information they apparently thought she'd picked up while in a coma.

Yohji parked on the street and doused the quiet growling of his engine. Something out of alignment yet again. He'd have to get under the hood tomorrow, if they didn't have a mission. The light in Aya-chan's room was still on, and he could see her silhouetted in the window, despite the fact that they'd told her a thousand times not to make herself such a target.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

"Hello?"

"You sound pretty perky for two o'clock in the morning."

"Yohji-kun!"

She always sounded so happy to hear from him. He always got a hug when he made it downstairs in the morning. Anyone else he would have killed for being so cheerful by now. She always made him smile. Even tonight.

"Hey, kid. I'm calling to yell at you."

"What'd I do?"

"Where are you right now?"

"I'm at home! You know that, dummy. You called me here."

"Uh huh. At home. In your room. Where in your room?"

"By the-- Oh." Her silhouette vanished, and the drapes twitched shut. "Um. Not by the window?" she said, with a question in her voice.

"Course not. Because you're a good girl, and you remember how frantic it makes your old Uncle Yohji gets when he thinks about you getting hurt."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are, sweetheart. Try and remember, okay? I know it sucks to live like this, but it's the life we've got. Could be worse, yeah?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'll remember, really. So what are you doing? Are you here?"

"Down on the street. Your own personal stalker."

She giggled. "You should sleep. You have early shift tomorrow. With Aya."

Yohji had thought Aya would go back to using his old name when Aya-chan woke up, but no. She adjusted to calling him by her own name as easily as she seemed to adjust to everything else. Aya seemed pleased by her apparent mental health. Yohji was waiting for the breakdown when it all caught up with her. Which was funny, really. You'd think Aya would be the pessimist.

"I will. Just going to sit here for a while."

"And smoke? How come I don't even get to sit by the window, but you get to kill yourself one puff at a time?"

"That was poetic. If inaccurate."

"It's not inaccurate. I did a report for school. Do you know how many people died of lung cancer last year?"

He sighed. "Gimme a break, huh? Do you know what the odds are on me even living long enough to get cancer?"

Silence. Damn, damn, damn.

"Shit, baby, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." But it was no good. She was sniffling distantly, no doubt holding the phone away so he wouldn't hear.

He crooned to her down the phone line, wanting to be up there, not daring to move. He'd only make things worse. It was what he did.

Her voice broke in the middle of telling him she was fine, just fine, and something hot squeezed his throat shut, and he hit the disconnect button.

He looked at his phone until the backlight went off. Minutes flicked past in the dim glow of the Seven's instrument panel. Yohji swore and swore and swore. First in his head and then under his breath and then right out loud.

"You fucking stupid *asshole*."

"Just what I was going to say."

Yohji looked up. Aya stood over him, hand on the car door, shadows on his face. Aya was going to kill him.

"Do it quick," Yohji muttered, hunching over the steering wheel. He might have been drunker than he'd thought he was.

Silence. Yohji wasn't good at silence.

"Is she okay?" he asked, finally.

"She's all right. She wouldn't tell me what you said."

More silence. Aya was good at silence. It was, in fact, one of his best things. Yohji sighed his defeat.

"Said I wasn't likely to live long enough for smoking to kill me."

Aya smacked the back of his head, not hard, or not as hard as Aya was capable of, but still enough to knock him forward and bang his forehead against the steering wheel. He didn't complain. He deserved it.

"Move over."

Hitting him was one thing. Driving his car was another.

"No."

"Move over, Yohji."

"You don't get to drive my car."

"You don't get to make my sister cry."

"Aya..." Horrible but inevitable to hear that whine creep into his voice. "It's my *car*."

"She's my sister."

There were further arguments that he could make, he was sure. But Aya was leaning down, arms crossed on the car door, so close that the wind whipped strands of his hair against Yohji's face. Aya's eyes were dark and level and reasonable in a way that never failed to freak Yohji out. He was too used to Aya with fire in his eyes and a hate inside him that froze everything he touched. Yohji had gotten frostbite from trying to touch Aya more times than he could remember.

"But..." He used to be better at arguing with Aya, before Aya got so damn reasonable.

"Yohji."

Yohji sighed and moved over, legs tangling briefly with the gearshift, Aya's hand on his belt keeping him from collapsing across both seats. Aya's hand trailing over his hip, making him pull away when pulling away was the last thing he wanted to do, and probably this was closer to the truth of why he had gotten so bad at arguing with Aya.

"Be gentle with her. She's used to me. I'm the only one who's driven her since I got her."

Aya's long fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. His thumb rubbed across the leather grip on the knob of the gearshift.

"I'm sorry," Yohji said. The words felt abrupt, startled out of him.

"You need to apologize to her."

"I did. Right before I hung up on her."

"Idiot."

He wasn't even going to try to argue that.

"Where are we going?" Yohji asked. Aya was pulling onto the coast highway.

"Don't worry about it."

He settled back against the seat, watched the empty road in front of them, and didn't worry about it. So much easier to do what Aya told him. It always was, but especially now. Aya was so much more stable now, and while that did freak Yohji out when he came face to face with it, he found it, in theory, reassuring. Someone in their little group should be stable, and it wasn't going to be him.

He closed his eyes and let the wind stroke light fingers through his hair. Time faded. Maybe he slept. When he opened his eyes, the air smelled like salt, and the fingers in his hair didn't belong to the wind.

He wanted to say Aya's name, but his voice wouldn't do it. His throat was too dry, and his tongue was thick.

They were parked with the front tires on the sand of a lonely beach. The moon was visible below the clouds, hanging low and heavy near the horizon.

"What... What are you doing?"

Aya pulled his hand away.

"What are *you* doing, Yohji?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"I've been watching you."

He had. Yohji had seen all that focus turned in a different direction since they got Aya-chan back. But the way Aya said it just now sounded like a threat.

"Why?"

"Tell me about Asuka."

Hearing her name, especially from Aya, was a physical shock. A don't ask, don't tell policy had evolved between the four of them regarding their pasts. It was enough to handle their own pain. None of them could deal with anyone else's. Aya shouldn't be asking. It changed everything.

"I don't... I can't... I can't, Aya."

Aya tucked a loose bit of hair behind Yohji's ear. He pulled his hand away quickly, and cool fingers brushed Yohji's neck as he did.

"You can." Hard voice. Implacable. "Tell me."

"Aya..." He could hear the whine in his voice again. And the plea: Don't make me do this. Because Aya could. And when had that happened, anyway? He never used to have a problem telling Aya to fuck off.

He made the mistake of turning towards that brief touch on his neck. Met Aya's eyes and saw all that quiet balance that he wasn't ever going to have.

"Why do you want to know?" It came out sounding like 'since when do you give a damn?' It was a fair question, even if it did reveal more than he'd have liked.

Aya shifted in the driver's seat. "Later. Answer the question."

Aya didn't want to answer Yohji's question any more than Yohji wanted to answer his. It wasn't in Aya's voice or in the way he sat, or anything that anyone else could see. It was something Yohji knew because of the thousand and one times he'd seen Aya with his sword in someone's guts. Because when you've seen someone kill, you know things about them that no one else knows.

"But you will tell me?"

"Later."

"When's later? Later tonight? Sometime before you die?"

That made Aya go all thin-lipped and squinty-eyed like he got when he was trying not to smile. That was one of Aya's new expressions, and Yohji liked it very much. He remembered not so long ago when Aya never had to try not to smile.

"Later tonight. Talk, Kudo."

Silence, which Yohji hadn't gotten any better at in the past few hours. Rush and withdrawal of the surf up and down the beach. It was so quiet that he could almost hear the moonlight glinting off the water.

"I met her when I was sixteen."

Aya was still watching him. Yohji could see the strange violet of his eyes reflecting the ambient glow from streetlights just out of sight. The glow painted a glassy sheen over those eyes, making them all but impossible to read.

"I was working two jobs to help my mom with the rent. After school in a drugstore, and the late shift in an adult video store." That last made Aya's mouth twitch. "Yeah, yeah. Total pervert, even back then."

Aya shook his head, but said nothing.

"She worked at the video store, too. Same shift as me. Two years older. She always gave me half her dinner, because I never had any. Watched the counter while I snuck in a nap. I was pretty strung out. Failing most of my classes. She helped me with my math."

She'd given him food when he was hungry, hugged him when he was down. Given him, always, exactly what he needed. And she was sexy as hell and good and kind and had the filthiest sense of humor he'd ever encountered before or since. She'd told this joke about a watermelon, a porn star, and a nun that still made him laugh. He just couldn't find the right words to make Aya understand.

"I loved her." Oh, yeah. Those were probably the words he'd been looking for. "You know how it feels, when someone you love walks in the room, and you look at them, and it fucking hurts? Just to look at them? Just because... Just because it's so much. It's everything, and it's perfect, and what if-- You know. What if."

Aya nodded. He knew. Yohji knew he knew, because he'd seen the looks he gave Aya-chan right after they got her back. Like maybe it was all just a dream and he'd wake up from it and have to kill himself because he wouldn't be able to stand it if it wasn't real.

"I told her once. That I loved her. She said she loved me, too. Kissed my cheek and patted me on the head." He saw Aya wince. "Yeah. But it didn't matter, see. Because I was with her, and I didn't care about anything else."

Deep breath. Wow. That sounded pathetic. He decided not to care. He wasn't going to sugar-coat this for Aya. For once, he wasn't going to pretend to be anything but what he was.

"When I was seventeen, my mom died. Heart attack. I found her when I came home from school. I was out of the apartment in two weeks. Couldn't make the rent without her paycheck. I didn't tell Asuka, but she figured it out eventually when my clothes started to stink and I didn't want to go home at the end of my shift. She took me home with her."

And he'd immediately turned into a bawling, snotty mess for four hours. He wouldn't mention that part. Maybe a little sugar coating wasn't a bad thing, after all. He remembered her making him a grilled cheese sandwich and sitting with while he tried to eat between sobs and hiccups. He remembered not even caring that she was acting more like a mother than a potential girlfriend. It had been, as always, what he needed. And he was starting to get sniffly just thinking about it. Damn. He blinked hard.

"How did you get from working in an adult video store to being private detectives?"

That was easier to deal with. Thank you, Aya.

"There was this stupid book. She was learning English, so she'd read anything she could find, and somebody left this book at the store. 'So, You Want to Be a Private Detective?' Kid's book, I guess. She read it over and over. And then the store got robbed, and she had this crazy idea about us finding the guy who did it. And we actually did. We were fucking amazing together."

"So you started the business."

"She kissed me," Yohji heard himself say. Unplanned and unsolicited words, straight from memory to mouth. Then he had to go on because Aya was waiting for an explanation. "When we got the reward for turning that guy in. She was so happy, and she just...kissed me. First time. Last time."

"And then?" Aya's voice was almost gentle.

"Then nothing. We got a few jobs. I got my own apartment. Then."

"Liott."

"Yeah."

"Tell me."

"They shot her. Kritiker found me. I wanted to kill. Anyone. Everyone. They gave me the opportunity."

Aya gave him a look that made Yohji suspect they would be revisiting that subject in the future.

"And then?"

"No and then. You wanted to know about Asuka. I told you."

"That girl."

"What girl?"

"Kyoko."

"Kyoko wasn't-- She wasn't anything. Nothing happened. I only knew her one day."

"You slept with her."

He didn't know how to classify that tone in Aya's voice.

"I didn't sleep with her. Why does everyone think I slept with her? She wasn't that kind of girl."

Well. She'd been a little bit that kind of girl. She had gone to the cabin for the weekend with him, after all. More like he wasn't that kind of guy.

"Botan said you were half naked on her balcony."

There was that tone again. It would be crazy to think Aya was jealous over Kyoko. Over anyone. It would be crazy, wouldn't it?

"Needed somewhere to smoke."

"You could have opened a window."

"I was watching her sleep, all right? She looked...so much..."

"You didn't sleep with her."

"No, I didn't fucking sleep with her."

"Neu?"

"You're asking me if I slept with Neu when I thought she was Asuka."

"Yes."

Yohji hit him. Skin of his knuckles breaking under the impact of teeth, flesh bruising under his flesh. Once wasn't enough. Aya was holding onto his wrists, so Yohji dragged one leg up and almost managed to kick him in the face.

Aya got the car door open and rolled them both backward, down onto the sand, Yohji's wrists caught and held and finally pinned above his head as they came to rest at the bottom of a small hill. Aya sat on top him, breathing hard.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Kudo?"

"Did I *fuck* the girl I thought was Asuka? Did I take advantage of her when she couldn't remember me, when I knew she wouldn't want me if she did? Did I take my chance to get between her legs when--" His voice broke on the last word. "When I... When I'd just gotten her back? What do you think I am, Aya?" Silence. "She was everything to me."

More silence, but this time Yohji couldn't fill it. There was nothing left to say, and he couldn't manage anything above a whisper anyway. His throat was too tight.

"Everything?" Aya asked.

Yohji almost said yes. Everything, always, forever and ever, amen. That was the way it was for him. By the time she'd died, he'd forgotten how to want anyone but her.

He looked into Aya's steady eyes and didn't say yes.

"You were going to tell me why you wanted to know."

"Later," Aya said.

"It's later now. I've been timing it."

Aya smiled then, actually smiled, and looked down at the sand beside Yohji's face. Silence.

"So, Aya." He wriggled a little under Aya's body. Pulled against Aya's grip on his wrists to see how much slack he had there. Not much. "Is that a katana in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

If Yohji used to be better at telling Aya to fuck off, Aya used to be better at not laughing at Yohji's bad jokes. Yohji could feel him almost shaking with the effort.

"I hate you," Aya said, mouth twitching.

"I might have believed that, if you'd said it yesterday."

"I do," Aya said, leaning closer. Warm breath over his face that smelled of roses. Aya had been stealing his sister's French rose candies again.

Yohji lifted his chin, tilted his head, parted his lips. Wanted it. Aya's mouth was so close he could almost taste it.

"I was trying to understand," Aya murmured. "Why you act the way you do. But I still don't. Why all the girls, Yohji? If there was never anyone but her--why?"

"Have to keep looking, don't I? Can't just give up."

"She wouldn't want you to give up."

Yohji found himself swallowing tears again, hating Aya for knowing that, hating him more for saying it out loud.

And somehow Aya knew that, too. "I'm sorry," he said. "This isn't going the way I'd planned it."

Yohji sighed. "If you're not going to kiss me, get the fuck off me, okay? I want a cigarette."

Aya didn't get off him. He let go of Yohji's wrists and sat up, pulling cigarettes and lighter out of Yohji's pocket. He lit one and let it hang between his lips while he studied Yohji's face.

Yohji wondered how his face must look, because Aya smoking was the sexiest thing he'd seen in a long time. Aya held the cigarette between thumb and forefinger and looked at it, turning it over and then towards him so he could see the end.

"It's just a cigarette, Aya."

It's not going to bite you, was what he'd meant, but the Freudian connotations struck him just after he said it. Just before Aya put it back between his lips and took a drag on it that hollowed out his cheeks. Yohji hadn't been seriously hard up to that point.

Aya let out the smoke in a series of improbably perfect rings and met Yohji's eyes with a small smile.

"You don't smoke," Yohji said.

"I wanted to learn to blow smoke rings when I was fourteen. I quit when I was sixteen."

"Why'd you quit?"

"The person I was seeing said it made my mouth taste like an ashtray."

Person, Yohji noted. Not girl.

"Did you ask how many ashtrays they'd kissed?"

"Yeah. But I quit anyway."

He put the cigarette between Yohji's lips. Yohji sucked on it, loving it as much for the lingering warmth of Aya's mouth as for the smoke rushing into his lungs, swirling around and calming him.

"You're still sitting on me."

"Yes."

Yohji looked pointedly at the bulge in Aya's pants, pressed against his stomach, but Aya seemed completely unfazed.

"Do you just not *get* embarrassed?"

"It's a waste of time."

Yohji raised an eyebrow and let out a cloud of smoke. He let his eyes slide downwards again.

"Doesn't look like a waste of time to me."

Apparently Aya did get embarrassed, because he blushed at that. It started at the tips of his ears and spread down to stain his cheeks pink. Yohji had never seen him blush before. He wanted to see it again.

"Why are you here, Aya? Why are we playing twenty questions in the middle of the night?"

Aya wasn't looking at him anymore. He was looking at the sea again, or maybe just the patch of darkness over Yohji's head.

"You know. You want me to say it so you can laugh?"

"Aya." He put his hand on Aya's thigh and squeezed until Aya looked at him again. "I'm not going to laugh at you."

"I like you," Aya said quickly. As if he were confessing something dark and depraved. The blush was back. He looked almost angry. "I was trying to help."

"Didn't know I needed help."

"Three girls a week, Yohji? You come home drunk more nights than not. Aya-chan was worried." Pause. "I was worried. If nothing else, you're going to pick up some horrible disease," he muttered.

"If this is help, thanks, but no thanks. I can live without being called a slut by the guy sticking his dick in my face."

"Three girls a week, Yohji!"

"And you have to assume I fuck all of them?"

"Don't you?"

"No!"

Aya looked a little surprised. Yohji felt more than a little surprised. Two years letting them think whatever they wanted of him, and now suddenly he decided to defend his reputation? He didn't give a damn what Aya thought about him.

"Well, how many of them do you sleep with?"

That was the exact question he'd been trying to avoid when he let everyone believe he was Yohji the Unstoppable Sex Machine. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"Well?"

Color high on Aya's cheeks, even under the bleaching moonlight. Impatience and demand in his voice. Eyes no longer so steady. Somehow, that pushed Yohji into answering.

"None of them," he muttered.

"None of them?"

"None of them, all right? Are you going deaf all of a sudden?"

Aya looked confused. "Are you gay?"

"No. Not usually," he hedged, since it was unlikely Aya had missed the hard on poking him in the butt.

"But...no girls?"

"No."

"Is there someone--Ken?"

"No. What? Fuck! Ken? No!"

Aya's face relaxed. "Good. He had a thing for you."

"Ken? Are you on crack?"

"He did. I thought-- He said something. You never...?"

"What part of 'fuck, no' didn't you understand?"

"Good."

Silence.

"Are you ever going to get off me? Or get me off. You know, whatever."

"And you wonder why we think you're--promiscuous?"

Promiscuous. That was just cute.

"Slutty is the word you're looking for, Aya."

"So you're not sleeping with anyone."

"No."

Silence.

"Seriously, Aya. You want to do something here? Anything?"

Aya was watching him with those steady, balanced, freaky eyes again. Weighed, measured, and found wanting, was the phrase suddenly running through Yohji's head.

"What do you do with them?" Aya asked.

"What?"

"The girls. I know you leave the clubs with them. Since Tokyo hasn't seen a rash of dead girls in dumpsters, I'm assuming you're not killing them." And the scary part was that Aya said that as if it would be a reasonable explanation. "So what do you do with them?"

Yohji shrugged. "High school date stuff. Kissing. Groping. I try to make sure they go home happy."

"What about you? Do you go home happy?"

"About as happy as any guy on a high school date, I guess."

"I didn't do much of that in high school."

"What about the ashtray kisser?"

"He didn't last long."

"He?"

"He. What about you?"

"I was gawky, skinny, and zitty until I was sixteen, and then I was working all afternoon and half the night."

"And then you met Asuka."

Sobering, like one of the waves had reached up the beach to douse them both.

"Yeah."

"And there was no one while you knew her."

"No."

"And there was no one since her. Because you're still looking."

He found he couldn't meet Aya's eyes any longer.

"I didn't mean... I don't..."

Aya pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and flicked it away across the sand. He bent down again, hair hanging on either side of Yohji's face, swaying and tickling in the salt breeze. Now Aya smelled like roses and smoke. He was so close Yohji couldn't focus on his face anymore.

"May I kiss you?" Murmured against his mouth, so close to touching.

That was his line. His line to all those girls he didn't give a damn about. If Aya meant it like he always had, it would kill him. He opened his mouth, but he couldn't answer. Could only stammer, caught and insensible.

Aya kissed him anyway.

Kissed him and slid his hands up into Yohji's hair. Propped his elbows in the sand and spread himself over Yohji like a blanket. Soft, rose-scented kisses smoothed across his lips. Aya was so gentle. Tipped his head just so and kissed him again and again until their lips were wet. Yohji let his mouth fall open, let Aya lick his lips and move inside, tasting of sugar and roses and smoke, sweet and sharp.

Yohji held onto Aya's shirt, fabric bunched in his fists, unable to let go or muster enough thought to do anything with his hands if he did. Fingers kneaded his skull, and Aya pressed their lips together, sliding, wet and warm, tongue on the roof of his mouth. Pulling back until they parted with a moist sound.

Fingertips on Yohji's cheek, Aya's eyes wide, lips wet and shining.

Yohji thought of all the times he'd been this close, before he figured out that if it wasn't Asuka, it wouldn't work. So many girls. A few guys. None of them right, none of them what he wanted. Another peculiar twist of his psyche. He'd honestly thought there would never be anyone else for him.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Yohji shook his head. "No. But I haven't-- Shit, Aya. I haven't. Fucking hell, I can't even say it. This is a bad idea."

"You have the worst language of anyone I know. I heard Aya-chan referring to her 'fucking homework' the other day. I blame you."

Aya said it so seriously that Yohji ended up laughing into his shoulder, clutching at him and wondering if he'd ever be able to let go.

Aya rolled them so they lay on their sides, arms around Yohji, holding him close.

"Bad idea," Yohji said into Aya's neck.

He couldn't imagine Aya putting up with him the way Asuka had. He couldn't imagine doing this and ever leaving Aya's side. He could hardly imagine it now.

"I like you." Aya kissed his temple. "I don't know why, but I do."

"That won't be enough."

"Neither of us are likely to live long enough to die of cancer, Yohji. I won't make promises I can't keep."

"I didn't ask you for promises. I didn't ask you for anything."

"Relax."

Aya kissed him again, and it left him boneless, pliant, and yearning. So much easier to do what Aya told him.

"All right?"

No. Not all right.

"I know you haven't done this before. I did figure that much out. You don't have to say it. But I need to know if...if you're okay. I don't want to... Will you say something? Please? I don't know what you're thinking."

"You're stuck with me, if you do this." It was as much of a warning as he could manage.

Aya held him tighter. "That was the idea."

Yohji let out a long breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay."

"Yes?"

"Yes."

"Do you want to go somewhere?"

"No. Here's...fine."

Here was close, at least. He couldn't handle the thought of driving to a hotel, or rather he couldn't handle the thought of the ride there. The silence would be unbearable, and conversation would be worse.

"You don't sound too enthusiastic."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Comes from being scared out of my fucking mind."

Aya pulled back and looked at him. "We don't have to, if--"

"It's not the sex that scares me."

"Oh."

Silence. Awkward silence. Aya looked so young and unsure in that moment that Yohji was forcibly reminded that the only serious emotional relationship Aya had ever had was with his sister. Not reassuring. It wasn't the physical part he was scared of, and the physical part could be distracting, for both of them.

He pushed Aya's shoulder, rolled him onto his back, bent to kiss him. Both distracting and very nearly perfect. He ran his hand down Aya's arm and up under the hem of his shirt. He could feel the outline of every single muscle in Aya's stomach. He slid down and pushed the shirt up.

Faint salt and smooth skin and the way Aya moved under him. Little twists and gasps when he hit a sensitive spot. So good.

"Yohji--"

Hand on his shoulder, pulling him up. He took Aya's wrist and pinned it to the ground. Aya no doubt had some idea about needing to be in charge here. Yohji had no problem with that, in theory, but not right now.

He worked his way up Aya's chest, tasting skin and feeling muscle and bone under his mouth. Aya's nipples peaked in the breeze, and Yohji licked across one and then the other. Aya's free hand wove through his hair and squeezed.

Pale pink on cream, like peppermint candy. Yohji traced circles around them with his tongue, spirals rising up to points and down again. He closed lips and teeth over one and sucked.

"Yohji-- Yohji, oh god will you---"

He would. He would do everything.

He eased back down and let go of Aya's wrist to unfasten his pants. He pulled them down, Aya barely lifting his hips to help.

"You don't have to--" Aya said.

Trust Aya to do the honorable thing, even now. Yohji stroked him through his briefs, rubbing at the damp patch, feeling Aya strain not to buck into the touch. It didn't feel strange to be doing this. It felt natural. It felt right, finally, after all the times it hadn't.

"Aya."

Aya opened his eyes and raised his head, watching as Yohji eased his dick out and bent towards it.

He licked fluid from the tip of Aya's cock and watched him close his eyes and open his mouth wide, sucking in air.

"I'm all yours, Aya. How do you want me?"

Aya sat up, grabbed his shoulders, hauled him close. Kissed him desperately. Teeth and tongue and ruthless force pressing his mouth open, pressing inside him. Aya's hands slid over his arms and closed on his wrists. Pushed him down in a mess of limbs and loose clothes. Aya stripped his own shirt off first and then pulled Yohji's over his head and left it tangled with his arms.

"Aya..." He tried to wiggle out of it, but Aya held him down, shook his head. Yohji stayed as he was and watched Aya pull off his pants.

The distant sound of a car almost made him look away, but he didn't see headlights, and it didn't sound close, and he didn't *care*. Aya was naked, kneeling and straddling his hips.

"Dammit, Yohji--" Sucking kisses along the side of his neck, nibbling, teeth closing over his ear lobe. "Are you doing this on purpose?"

"Wha... Doing..." Words would have been easier without Aya sucking on his ear.

"Driving me out of my mind." Aya stopped, cheek resting against his. "Like you always do. I tried not to watch you. It never worked. Even before."

"Before...?"

"Before. When I couldn't touch you."

"You could always touch me," Yohji told him, only half knowing what he was saying, what it meant. "Always."

Aya shook his head, but didn't explain. His hand went to Yohji's fly and unbuttoned and unzipped and wormed inside. Pulled him out. Rough touch of fabric and Aya's warm hand, sword calluses across the palm, stroking him.

"Mine?" Aya asked him.

"Yours, yes, always," and more words strung together, strung out, all in one breath.

"However I want you?"

Dark, steady eyes on his, full of whatever it was that let him give all of them orders and made them obey. Whatever it was that led Yohji here, with his arms trapped over his head, heels digging into the sand, twisting as Aya worked him slow and easy.

"Want you, Aya, please, please..."

Aya bent, sealed their mouths together, one hand pushing down hard on Yohji's trapped arms, the other pumping him faster, faster, until he was arching and so close. Aya leaned in and bit his bottom lip, and he came in frantic bursts, seeing white behind his eyes.

He lay on the ground, limbs heavy, eyes closed. Aya's weight moved off him, and he heard the rustle of fabric. He managed to get one eye open. Aya was getting dressed.

"Hey, aren't you going to..."

Aya was still visibly hard, even with his pants on.

"New plan," Aya said shortly. "Hotel."

"What's wrong with here?"

"Sand."

Yohji moved and winced. There was already sand in several places he'd rather not ever have sand. He could see Aya's point. He got his shirt pulled back down over his head, tried and failed to get the sand out of his pants, and zipped up. Aya pulled him to his feet.

There was sand everywhere, and there seemed to be the same amount no matter how much they brushed off. They both looked pretty much exactly like they'd just had abortive sex on a beach, which would be interesting when they got to the hotel. Maybe the car ride would help. Yohji picked up Aya's shirt and headed towards the car.

"I'm going to need that," Aya said.

"I disagree."

Aya's mouth twitched. "I'll get cold."

Yohji pulled his jacket out of the back seat and threw it to him.

"I can have your jacket but not my shirt?"

"I want to be able to stare at your chest."

Aya pulled on the jacket and stopped arguing. Yohji tried not to grin too widely. He could spend hours looking at Aya's skin. He stood by the passenger's side door and did that. Aya looked back at him from the other side.

The grin faded as Aya came around to his side. Bent him back over the car door to suck on his bottom lip in a way that had him moaning in about three seconds. Aya's hands on his hips pressed their bodies together, and he could feel how hard Aya was. It went on and on, and Aya was thrusting against him, and he stopped even trying to keep quiet. Finally, Aya pulled away with a gasp, eyes closed and head hanging down. Faced flushed, lips swollen and shining. Yohji couldn't help it; he leaned forward to start all over again.

Aya put a hand on his chest to stop him, but kissed him anyway, gently this time, mouths closed, lips slipping against each other.

Aya opened the door for him, like he always did for Aya-chan, even though she yelled at him for it.

In the car, back on the highway, Aya watched the road, and Yohji watched Aya. His jaw was tight, and the fingers of his sword hand kept clenching on the steering wheel.

"What's wrong?"

By the time Aya answered, the wind and the silence had replaced the question so thoroughly that Yohji was no longer sure he'd asked. Aya's voice was startlingly loud, even over the white noise of rushing air and tires on asphalt.

"You've never been with anyone but me?"

"No," Yohji said shortly.

"No one's touched you. You're not going to go out and--" Aya shook his head. "I think I'd kill anyone who touched you now. So don't. Please."

There was quiet for a moment while Yohji struggled to speak over a sudden rush of heat. That shouldn't turn him on. Really, really shouldn't.

"Yohji?"

"I won't."

"I thought it would be easier now. I was a little...off. Before."

"Totally fucked up."

Aya glanced at him. "Unbalanced. Slightly."

"Totally. Fucked. Up."

Pause. Irritated finger-drumming on the steering wheel. "All right, fine. Yes. Totally."

Yohji smiled. "No big deal. You got better, which is more than the rest of us can say."

"There's nothing wrong with you."

Yohji snorted. "If I had to make a list, I wouldn't know where to start."

Aya turned off the highway and then right from the off-ramp into the parking garage for the Sheraton Grande Tokyo Bay Hotel.

"Aya, we can't afford this place."

Aya pulled into a parking space and stopped the car. "You don't have afford it. I'm paying."

"But--"

"It's only one night."

"You don't have to--"

"Yohji. Shut up now."

Yohji shut up. He caught Aya's arm as he was about to get out and pulled him back. Kissed him. Lightly, so they wouldn't end up doing it in the car.

"Thanks," he said.

Aya grunted something that might have been an acknowledgment and got out.

"Hey, Aya."

"What?"

"Might want your shirt."

Yohji threw it at him and hit him in the face.

Aya caught it and tossed it back. He shrugged out of Yohji's jacket and threw him that as well. His arms reached over his head in a stretch that bared his throat and showed off his muscles and made Yohji's mouth water.

Yohji shook his head. "Fuck. Can I just jump you right here?"

"No. You can give me my shirt, so we can get a room." Aya sighed. "Jump me? Could you possibly makes this any less..."

"Romantic? Aya's Mr. Romance, and I never knew?"

"Shut up."

Yohji climbed out over the driver's side seat and into Aya's arms. Just for a second, and he knew should have said thank you again, but he couldn't. Couldn't do that anymore than he could stop messing with Aya's pretty seduction scenario. He didn't know how to feel about it. It made him want to run, but that wasn't possible anymore. It made him want to stay forever, and that wasn't possible either.

Aya put his shirt on and helped Yohji put the top up on the Seven. They walked through the garage with Aya's hand on Yohji's back, which made Yohji feel ridiculous and warmed at the same time.

He hung back when they got to the front desk, hands in his pockets, exuding cool on autopilot. He didn't feel cool. He felt the opposite of cool. Hot, awkward, needy. What the *fuck* could be taking Aya so long? If they didn't have a room free...

But they did, and five minutes later, Aya was glaring the bellboy out of it and closing the door.

Yohji looked around. "Nice."

The carpet was thick and soft. Indirect lighting filled the room with a warm glow that picked out the highlights in Aya's hair. And not to be shallow or anything, but damn, the bed was *huge*.

Aya was backed up against the door, hand still on the doorknob. Body slightly twisted, shirt riding up so Yohji could see a sliver of skin between hem and waistband.

"Come here," Aya told him.

Yohji went to him, and Aya took his face in his hands and kissed him until Yohji was sighing into it and leaning against him. His knees felt shaky.

Aya pushed him back a little. Pulled off his shirt and kissed his bared shoulder.

"Bed," Aya told him. "Before we get distracted."

"Right."

He walked to the bed in a daze, feeling Aya's lips on his skin, tasting Aya's mouth on his. Feeling heat creep over him and steal his thoughts. He sat down to take his shoes off and sat up again with Aya standing just in front of him. His erection was pushing against his pants. Yohji couldn't look away.

He watched as Aya took his shirt off, folded it, set it aside on a chair.

Yohji put his hands on his hips and pulled him closer. He felt like he should be asking permission. As if Aya was going to say no.

Aya unfastened his pants without stepping away. Yohji lifted his hands to let him slide down pants and underwear and then replaced them. Bare skin, smooth and warm under his palms. He ran his hands up Aya's sides and stroked back down. Pale flesh shivered under his touch.

He bent toward Aya's straining cock.

"Don't."

Yohji looked up. "What?"

"Don't. I won't last. And I want to... If it's okay?"

"Oh." He'd almost forgotten about that. "Oh. I mean yeah. Yes. Do that."

Then Aya was pulling him up, hands smoothing over his butt, pressing their bodies together hard. Aya's cock burning hot even through his pants. Aya's hands stripping him, pushing tight pants down over his hips, down his thighs. Aya knelt to help him out of them. Hands touching him, ankles, calves, thighs, stomach. Up on his feet again, Aya took his hand and pulled him away from the bed.

"Where are we going?"

"Shower." Aya made a face. "I've still got sand on me."

Yohji laughed and let himself be pulled.

The bathroom was marble and gleaming brass. There was a heat lamp overhead. Yohji turned it on and turned his face towards it while Aya fiddled with the water temperature. He stroked himself slowly, eyes shut, feeling almost sleepy.

When Aya pulled him into the shower and into his arms, he went easily. Warm water soaked his hair as he leaned back against Aya's shoulder.

"This is nice."

Aya breathed a laugh against his ear. "You sound ready to start purring any minute."

"I might. Might fall asleep, too. Don't let me drown."

"You're not allowed to fall asleep."

Aya ran a hand over his chest and down his stomach to close on his cock. He stroked it steadily, running the soap in circles over Yohji's body with the other hand. The soap coated his skin, making every touch slippery and hot. He could feel Aya's cock, hard and slick, riding along the cleft of his ass as Aya rocked against him.

They turned in the spray, washing away soap and sand. Aya pushed him up against the wall and knelt behind him.

"What are you--?" Yohji stopped there, because that was Aya's tongue sliding between his butt cheeks, licking up and down and over his opening and oh fuck pressing *inside*. Loosening him until he thought he'd collapse, as if his muscles were attached to the nerve endings there. It left him weak with pleasure, panting, clutching at the shower wall to keep himself on his feet.

Aya stood and pressed up behind him, their bodies touching everywhere, warm and wet.

"Are you sure?" Aya asked.

"Yes."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Don't be--" He had to stop and get a proper breath. "Don't be an asshole, Aya. I want it. You know I want it. Please."

Aya licked water off the side of his neck, and Yohji shivered.

"I just wanted to be sure."

His hips were pulled back slightly, and one finger slid inside him, wet with something more than water. It felt strange. Out of place. It pressed farther in, wiggled, crooked inside him. Then--a new kind of pleasure, white and intense, deep inside him.

"Oh fuck, oh god, Aya..."

There was a plea for more somewhere in those words, and Aya gave it to him, again and again. Gentle pushes that sent sparks up his spine and made him close his eyes and press his forehead against the cool tile.

"Aya, god, please--"

"More?"

"Yes, everything, please."

"Not yet."

No, first there was another finger inside him, stretching him, working him open. Aya was avoiding that place inside him now. Without the surges of pleasure, he just felt full, tight, and a little worried about much fuller he would be with Aya inside him.

"Relax, Yohji. If you tense up, this won't work."

"You've done this before, right?"

"Yes."

"A lot?"

Aya sighed in his ear. "Is there a right answer to that question?"

"Um. Probably not."

Aya reached around and stroked Yohji's cock, bringing it back to full hardness. Kisses on his neck, tongue behind his ear.

"Trust me, Yohji," Aya whispered, so low Yohji barely heard the words over the water. "Please trust me."

His hips were pulled back further, and he braced himself against the wall, biting his lip, trying to make himself relax.

The fingers were gone, and he felt the head of Aya's cock at his entrance. God, so hard. So hot inside him, stretching him. Just the head, and then Aya stopped. Hiss of water, his own breath and heartbeat, Aya's forehead resting on his shoulder.

"More," he said. Thinking about what it would feel like when Aya was all the way inside, moving against that spot. "Aya..."

Aya's mouth on the nape of his neck, teeth digging in just enough so he could feel it, sucking gently. Aya's hand jacking him slowly. His body eased, and Aya slid inside.

They rocked together for the longest time, Aya barely moving inside him, the head of his cock settled against Yohji's prostate. Aya kept stroking him until he grew restless, wanted more, needed more. He thrust forward into Aya's hand, but that moved him off Aya's cock. He pushed back hard, not wanting to lose that, and closed his eyes against the pleasure that shot through him.

Aya took over, took his hip in one hand and held him steady, drove into him and found that spot unerringly every time. Yohji's fingers curled against the tile, looking for purchase and finding none. His cock ached, and he thought he'd come with every stroke of Aya's hand.

"Promise," Aya said in his ear.

Yohji didn't answer, wasn't even sure he hadn't imagined it.

"Yohji." An arm wrapped around his waist and held him still.

"What?" he gasped.

"Promise--no one else."

"Aya..." Still pumping him, fast and hard. So goddamn close.

"Promise."

"I promise," Yohji said. Breathless, faint, needing to come more than anything.

Aya pulled back and drove into him, deep, hitting him just right with a flash of heated pleasure that drown out even the touch on his cock. Yohji came seeing red behind his eyes, biting his lip, spine arched taut like a wire curving through the air.

Aya held him up, still thrusting into him, sending tremors through him.

"Perfect," Aya was saying in rough breath after breath. "Perfect, beautiful, mine."

The words sounded unconscious, muttered so low Yohji missed half of them, but they were repeated over and over. Yohji twisted as far as he could and caught Aya's mouth in a brief kiss.

"Yours," he said.

Aya closed his eyes and opened his mouth, face set in lines that Yohji had seen before only on the way to the hospital when the pain was too much even for him to bear. He came in pulses inside Yohji's body.

He dropped his head forward against Yohji's shoulder and staggered, just a step, pressing Yohji close against the wall. Cool tile all down his front, and Aya wet and warm behind him. He was supporting both their weight in that moment and thought they'd both end up on the floor. Aya recovered after a second, but his head was still heavy on Yohji's shoulder as he pulled out.

Yohji touched the hand still spread across his stomach, and Aya took his and held it. He lifted his head. His breath whistled past Yohji's ear, slowly calming.

Aya shut off the water and pulled him out of the shower. They dried off slowly, Yohji fighting the urge to say something. This was a silence he wanted to keep.

He reached for Aya's hand, feeling like a fool and not caring. Aya met his eyes and kissed his hand before leading him to the bed.

Yohji was asleep before Aya pulled up the covers.

***

He woke to the sound of Aya's cell phone ringing. The sound was replaced with Aya's voice, muffled and sleepy.

"What?" There was a pause. "No, I'm not dead. Dead people don't answer the phone. I told you last night I was going after Yohji." Another pause. "No, he's not dead either... Fine. Here."

He hand the phone to Yohji.

"Hello?"

"Are you okay?" Aya-chan demanded.

"I'm fine, kid. How are you?"

"I'm okay. I'm sorry I lost it. It's just... I think about that a lot. You know?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"So where are you? You two never came home. I thought maybe he killed you and dumped the body or something."

"We're at a hotel." He glanced at Aya, realizing he probably shouldn't have said that. If they'd fallen asleep in the car, it would explain why they'd woken up together. "We'll be home later. By the time you get back from school. Hey, you did go to school, didn't you? Because your brother maybe dumping my body in the bay is no excuse for ditching."

She sighed. "Yeah, I went. Ken made me. He's really pissed about having to cover your shift, by the way. So what are you guys doing?"

Yohji opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His head was filled with images of what they'd done last night, and he couldn't think of a damn thing to say. Aya frowned and took the phone.

"You need to get back to class," he said. "Fine. Then you need to get back to lunch. Yes, we'll be there. All right." His face softened. "I love you, too. Hang up the phone now. Bye."

He disconnected the call and set the phone on the bedside table. He dropped his head back to the pillow.

"We should tell her. She'll figure it out if we don't," Aya said.

"Do you want to?"

"Yes," he said, after a pause. "Do you?"

Yohji snorted. "I'd skywrite it if I thought you'd let me."

Aya turned to look at him. "I thought you'd want to keep it quiet. You won't keep your reputation long."

"Fuck my reputation."

"You mean that?"

"Yeah. Guess I do."

"Will you..."

"What?"

"Will you take me out with you sometime?"

Yohji raised his eyebrows. "Any night you want. But you hate that kind of thing."

"I want them to know you're taken."

Yohji rolled closer and kissed him, thumb smoothing over the faint bruise on Aya's jaw from where he'd hit him last night. He didn't know how else to respond to that. Or maybe he did.

"Aya? I like you, too."

The body against his relaxed slightly, and it was only then that he realized how tense Aya still was.

"I don't care about my rep, Aya. I..." He stopped, not knowing how to say what he needed to say. "You don't need to worry about me."

Aya pulled back just enough to look at him. "No?"

"No." Yohji brushed their lips together. "Not now, not ever."

"All right," Aya said softly. He buried his face in Yohji's neck. "We'll tell them when Aya-chan gets home from school. Everyone at once."

"You sound like you'd rather stick a sword in your gut."

"That option doesn't sound entirely unpleasant."

"Thanks."

"She's my baby sister, Yohji. I don't want her to know anything about my sex life, ever. Or anyone else's. Especially yours."

"Excuse me?"

"Never mind."

"No, I don't think so." Aya started to pull back. Yohji held him still. "Especially mine? Until last night I didn't have one. Mine is yours, Aya. If you still think I'm some kind of corrupting influence on your sweet little sister--"

"She has a crush on you."

"Oh, she does not. First Ken, now Aya-chan? You're fucking paranoid."

"You two get along so well. Better than you get along with me, really. She found that picture of Asuka in your room, looking for that hat you said she could borrow. She wanted to cut her hair like that. I wouldn't let her."

"She's... She's your little sister! She's a kid."

"I know."

"Even if she did have a thing for me, which she doesn't, you can't seriously think I'd...*do* anything with her?"

Aya shrugged.

"I'm not a fucking child molester."

"Life looks for ways to hurt me," Aya said. "If you and she had gotten together... That would have been a good one."

"Aya..."

"I know. It doesn't really. Life doesn't give a damn about any of us. But that's the way it feels. She would have looked so much like Asuka with that hair cut. And... I would've had to be happy for both of you."

Yohji ran a hand over his bare back, feeling the ridges of his spine and sleep-warm flesh. Touched his hair, still tangled from sleeping on it wet.

"Aya... Shit. I don't know what to say here. Obviously I'm not going to sleep with your sister. And if life still has it in for you, there's probably not much I can do. But I'll be here."

"Will you?"

"I'm good at not dying. And I already told you you're stuck with me. What else can I do to convince you?"

"Stop smoking," Aya said quietly.

Yohji combed tangles out of Aya's hair with his fingers. He watched the square of sun on the foot of the bed. He'd been awake ten minutes and he already wanted a cigarette. He still didn't expect to live much past thirty.

"Sure," he said. "No problem."

Aya lifted his head to look at him. "Really?"

"Really."

Aya said nothing. His arms tightened, and he bent his head to Yohji's shoulder again. Muscles shifted under the skin of his back and shoulders, making the grip so tight it was almost painful.

Yohji listened to his breathing and kept combing through his hair. He could hear that, too, after a while. Rasp of skin on red silk. The rustle of the sheets as one of them shifted. He heard the hum of the air conditioner and the dull buzz of the TV in room next door. He felt no need to break the silence.


End file.
